Wednesday, July 29, 2015

It's Getting Hot in Here

Some time around the first of this month, one of our air
conditioning units went out – the one that cools all of the bedrooms. When you
live where we do, and it’s summertime, having no air conditioning is a big
deal. The upstairs bedrooms were hovering in the 90s.

It’s not the best thing that could happen, but it’s far from
the worst. After this rather tumultuous season, we just rolled with it. We let
the kids bring a couple of their mattresses downstairs. This made them felt as if the room
was now one giant trampoline and spent a large portion of their days teaching
Felicity how to jump off of the couch onto the mattresses. Heaven help us when
we put the house back together again.

We continued to sleep in our room since it was on the bottom
floor and slightly cooler than the rooms upstairs.We kept the fans on high and the doors open.
Felicity’s room is also downstairs, but since she needs the door closed to
sleep in the midst of the noise of the acrobatics, she got sweaty and didn’t
sleep quite as well.

It’s all been reminiscent of the January after Felicity was
born and our water heater froze and broke. Consequently, our bedroom, closet,
bathroom and hallway were flooded with several inches of water before we found
out what was happening. In the midst of the crew drying out everything, one man
tripped and broke our bed. An hour later, another guy stepped through the
ceiling bringing down loads of insulation with him…while the industrial fans
were blowing the carpets out. It was lovely.

Everything had to be moved out of those spaces so for nearly
two months my underwear and other clothing drawers were stacked up in the
family room, Felicity and I bunked with Mackenzie, Nelson slept in Aiden’s
room, and the three boys slept together (this was during Felicity’s reflux
stage when she spent a large amount of time screaming – Mackenzie could sleep
through it and Nelson couldn’t).

The difference was that for the most part, we were able to
live our lives. It made me kind of crazy to stack and unstack my dresser
drawers to find my clothes in the middle of my family room, but I learned to
cope. Well, I had to cope with that because I was struggling to cope with
Felicity and that took every ounce of energy I had.

This time there’s no school or activities to get the kids out for
a while. They are sleeping and living in our main living areas, which means
we’re all together…all the time.

I’ve learned one thing from this new adventure
– I need my own space sometimes.

It’s too long of a story to tell you why the A/C still
hadn’t been fixed when we left for vacation last week. The short part is that
the unit is still under warranty and because the part has gone bad so many
times, we have the option to replace the whole unit at a fraction of the cost
of a new one. As we left for vacation and we were talking about when it might
be fixed, I asked Nelson if we should just replace the other one while we’re at
it. Even though he agreed that would be good, he said the deal doesn’t work
unless the unit fails. It was a passing conversation at the beginning of a
vacation week, so that was the end of that. I was hopeful that by some miracle,
it would be replaced while we were gone and we’d come home to life as usual.

I didn’t think about it again until we were driving home Saturday
night. We were about an hour away from home when Nelson looked at his phone (I
was driving) and said, “Oh no.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“Looks like our other unit is out now too,” he said.

“So, the good news is that we’re already packed and ready to
head to my folks,” I offered. “And, now I guess we can replace both units.” Not
exactly what we wanted to be doing right now, but much better than it happening
six months from now when the warranty runs out.

We pulled into my folks’ driveway with the car still fully
loaded. We brought in the suitcases and pillows we needed and hit the sack
grateful that we had a cool place to sleep. Temps here have been in the 100s,
so toughing it out at home was not an option.

I did great the first two days. I told myself this is an adventure.
I convinced myself to think of it as an extension of our vacation. My parents
are getting ready to move out of the house they’ve been in for thirty years so
I figured it was a great excuse to spend some quality time there before they
move. I’m typing this from the bedroom that was mine from the time I was a
freshman in high school until I got married.

If I gained anything from this journey, it’s the ability to
cope.

Today, however, something came over me that put coping out
the window. It’s now day three here at my folks. They are wonderful and I’m so
grateful, but it’s not my home anymore. I felt like I was in limbo. My
mind was racing with all the things I could be doing if I were at home, and
about mid-afternoon, as I was putting dinner together, and changing over
laundry, a funk came over me. Suddenly, I went from this totally secure person
in control of this out of control situation, to an insecure weakling. My mind
swirled with thoughts like, “I’m useless”, and, “My life consists of cleaning
clothes and feeding people.” Those thoughts and others like them threw me into
a kind of self-pity tailspin that was dizzying.

I fought it, but not totally successfully. Thankfully, I had
an errand to run so I escaped in this weakened state. I got in the car and
turned the radio to the Christian station hoping for some help. “Blessed Be the
Name of the Lord” came on just at that moment. It’s been kind of like my
personal anthem during the journey and I tried to sing through the tears that
were coming.

It’s tough to be in a place you know you shouldn’t be.

I have everything to be grateful and nothing to complain
about. I should not feel this way, but sometimes I do - even when I know
better.

I had to sit in my car to wait for a prescription to be
filled. I turned the radio off and sat in silence begging the Lord to help me.
“Whatever it is You’re trying to teach me,” I begged Him, “please help me learn
it quickly. Use this time to make me stronger, more faithful, more grateful,
but please, please, let me be a quick study.”

It wasn’t much of a prayer, but it was sincere. I prayed it
and sat there in my hot car waiting for Him to respond.

I am enough.

I’ve learned to say, “It’s just money, you can’t take it
with you.” I’ve acknowledged that I can’t do it all on my own. I’ve learned
lots of little lessons along the way, but I’ve missed the big one.

God is enough.

If God is enough, I don’t have to worry about where I’m
staying or how much money we have. If God is enough, I don’t need to be
concerned about what I’m doing with my life, only that I’m doing what He’s
called me to do. If God is enough, nothing can bother me.

Sitting in my hot car in the middle of that parking lot, I
knew that I’m nowhere close (even though I often pretend I am) to total trust
in God.

By the time I started up the car, I found a peace in knowing
which direction I was headed.

Wednesday, July 22, 2015

Vacation's All I Ever Wanted

Today I remembered a lesson I learned on a vacation many
years ago.

A vacation with babies or toddlers is not really a vacation.
In fact, when you have babies and toddlers, vacation is like real life…only
harder. You’re in a strange place that isn’t baby proofed, following a schedule
that is nothing like home, and to top it off, you’re doing it in front of
family members you don’t see very often.

Vacations won’t always be like this, but for a season (more
like two or three years), they will be. For the past two years, every one in my
family looks forward to the beach but me. They see no chores, hours of play and
free time, and precious time with cousins and family. I see struggling to get
the baby used to a new sleeping environment; chasing her around at the pool, on
the beach, in the park, and in the house; and dealing with the seven of us
sharing one bedroom (even when their bodies are on couches, their stuff is
everywhere).

I’m ashamed to say that all too often my time is spent
dwelling on this. Perhaps this is a result of having the last four or so
“pre-Felicity” vacations being absolutely wonderful. I could sit by the side of
the pool while all the kids swam or get in the pool and play with them. I could
ride the waves in the ocean by their sides or sit in a chair and read. The
evenings were filled with family games and long conversations. I dare say, it
was actually relaxing.

Today as we trudged to the trolley stop to go to the beach
in the stifling heat, I found myself carrying a 26-½ pound baby in one arm and
a beach bag that weighed almost as much in the other. As I sat on the bench
waiting, fighting with Felicity to stay with me in the shade, I looked at my
sister-in-law and said, “I think next year will be the year it gets a little
easier. I thought it would be this year, but I was wrong…very, very wrong.”

That’s when I remembered that the summer Dawson was almost
three, something changed. It was the first family vacation I didn’t have to be
in the pool holding one of the kids. I remember that moment because I was
fighting the nausea of pregnancy and wondering why in the world I had talked
Nelson into baby number four. I don’t say that to mean that I didn’t want Max
(I really, really did!), but to draw attention to the fact that as much as I
wanted this baby, I still realized how hard life had been up to that point and
how much it had suddenly changed.

There are still plenty of great things about vacation. I
only have to cook one night the whole week. There are other people to help
clean up. I have the best brother-in-law in the world – one who takes all four
of my big kids to do things while I’m with the napping baby. And of course, I
see the value of building precious memories with family members. My kids have
something I never had.

There is also one small thing about this vacation that is
absolutely glorious. Our condo has a pool…in the backyard. That means that
while Felicity is napping, instead of being tied to the house, like I am at
home, I simply turn on the monitor and head to the pool. She is absolutely worn
out from the day’s activities and sleeps for a good two and a half to three
hours. That allows me time to swim laps (exercise is my Prozac), swim races and
play with the kids, and even read a few pages in a book. Those few hours are
indulgent.

That’s when it occurred to me that I’ve gained a bit of
wisdom through the years. I was swimming laps, thinking about nothing much
other than what number lap I was on, watching the bubbles of people swimming
past and under me, and being amazed at how much I love swimming, when I
thought, “Thank you Lord for this opportunity.” In that moment a sincere and
tremendous sense of gratitude came over me. Here I was, doing what I loved, in
the middle of the day. Felicity could have decided not to nap. The
thunderstorms could have rolled in early. The pool could have been too crowded.
Instead, God cleared a path and gave me a gift. The difference, where the
wisdom comes in, is that I saw it.

Tonight I chased my busy toddler around while everyone else
enjoyed the outdoor concert. I didn’t love that, but I didn’t hate it either.
It’s where I am. It’s a season and next summer will be better; but tomorrow, I
just might get the chance to swim laps again.

Sunday, July 19, 2015

Strawberry Pigtails Forever

Last night during mass, the deacon reminded us what a gift
it is to come to church. Before mass starts, we are asked to turn off all
electronic devices. “For one whole hour, you get to turn the world off,” he
explained. “For one hour, we get to leave it all behind and concentrate on
Jesus. Let’s do that now for just a moment. Close your eyes and just take it
all in.” The church was silent for one glorious moment. I breathed deeply and
sucked it in – the quiet, the peace, the contentment.

After mass, we met some family members at a restaurant Aiden
requested for his birthday dinner. It was 6:30 on a Saturday night and the wait
was over an hour. Although it was hot, no one was bothered. I took the kids to
peruse the gift shop and then met everyone at the outdoor bar. Felicity had
been sitting in the lap of Nelson’s aunt, but by the time I reached her, she
was done. It had been a long car ride followed by mass and she was ready to
move.

I excused myself from the group to take her for a walk and noticed
that the music we had been listening to was live. We meandered through the
tables and found a nice open spot right in front of the musician. Felicity is
my music lover. She starts dancing when she hears anything with a beat, and at
her age, being in front of a multitude of strangers didn’t hinder her at all.

He was singing “Strawberry Fields Forever” and she was
dipping, swaying, and rocking to the beat with total abandon. She threw both
arms up in the air and spun around. She took a few steps forward, and then
back, and repeated in time with the music. She ran from one end of the
boardwalk to the other trying out new moves grinning from ear to ear. She was
the only one dancing and instantly the center of attention. Before long she was
standing at the foot of the stage staring up into the singer's eyes, smiling and
bopping up and down. Honestly, he had a hard time singing though his own
giggles. She made such an impression that the next time the chorus came around,
he was singing, “Strawberry pigtails forever.”

It was precious to watch. I wanted to take out my phone and
record the whole thing. Really, it was so stinking cute; if you got to see her,
you would have seen why he chose his next song and dedicated it to her. I
thought about taking out that phone and then the deacon’s words came back to
me. “You get to leave the world behind.”

I knew that if I got my phone out, I would miss the moment
while trying to record it. Don’t get me wrong, I am the record keeper for the
family. I record most every moment. But watching the moment through the tiny
screen doesn’t allow you to experience the moment.

I made a simple decision standing next to a palm tree
growing through the boardwalk in front of that tiny stage. I decided to enjoy
the moment instead of recording it. I watched my baby revel in the rhythm of
the music. I watched the unadulterated joy exude from her entire being. At one
point she bent in half and placed both hands on the ground while extending one
leg in the air behind her. On the next beat, she stood and kicked that same leg
up in the air. It was an amazing move for a 20 month old and I was in awe. She
didn’t care what anyone thought, she found the beat and let it move her. When
people were walking past or trying to get around her, it didn’t encumber her
moves at all. “Let them walk around,” she must have been thinking. “I’m
dancing!”

There wasn’t one person who encountered this little redheaded,
pig-tailed beauty with a knockout smile, gigantic dimples, and squeezable
chubbiness, who didn’t smile right back at her. Her joy was contagious. And I
stood there with a smile bigger than hers and took it all in. So many times in
the drudgery of daily life, I forget how much fun it is to have this unexpected
toddler in my life. But last night, I drank it in and thanked God that this
child is mine. There were no other kids around for me to keep an eye on. I
didn’t get distracted trying to video or post something. It was just me,
watching her, enjoying the pure happiness of the moment.

Monday, June 08, 2015

The Story Unfolds

I’ve waited 11 months to tell
this story.

I’m not looking for sympathy.

I’m telling it in hopes that
my journey might help others. I’m telling it so that you can see that everyone struggles.
I’m telling it so that we can all remember that though our struggles help us
become who we are, they do not define us. I’m telling this so that one day,
when I’m on the other side of it, I will not forget what it took to get me
there. I’m telling it to remind myself that even when things don’t go my way
and it feels like God may have forgotten me, He hasn’t.

God does not cause the pain
in our lives. He carries us through it.

He is carrying me now. He always
will. May I never, ever forget that.

The whole story is not here
yet, but I’m working on it. For now, you can start here. For some reason I can't see it when I pull up the August 2014 page from the blog roll on the left, so I'll include the missing links here, here, here and here and hope the rest show up on your page.

Over the next days and weeks
I’ll go back and fill in some of the gaps.

Don’t read my story and worry
about me. Read it and pray for me. When you see me, remind me that God is in
control, and He does it much better than I do. Help me remember that God’s got this.

Sunday, June 07, 2015

Moving On

As I sit here in my hotel
room on Bourbon Street in New Orleans, I am finally finding a chunk of time to
return to this cathartic place. It’s been another challenging season. This one
is on the tails of this challenging season, which was on the tails of this one.
Are you seeing a trend here? I’m certainly feeling it.

During a season when taking
an anniversary trip was out of the question, God provided one for us. Nelson is
attending a conference. It just so happens that it’s in New Orleans, they
invited me to join him…AND they are paying for everything. The fact that it
fell on the week of our anniversary and that my parents graciously agreed to
stay with our kids was icing on the cake (Thanks Mom and Dad!).

God knows what you need when
you need it. I am so grateful.

I think I have made a mistake
of steering clear of this place during hard times. I’m going to work to rectify
that.

Circumstances have changed so
that Nelson has the computer when he’s working, which is often from before the
sun rises until well after the kids go to bed. When he’s not out, he’s working
from home with it. When I get the chance to use it, I can hardly form an
intelligent thought, let alone put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard). He
reminds me that I can use the kids’ computer but it’s not the same version and
trying to make that work when I can’t even make my mind work is nearly
impossible.

The problem is, that when I’m
not writing here, I’m writing in my head. So the need to get things down is
ever present, even when circumstances don’t allow it.

But that’s about to change. I
don’t know how I’m going to make it work, but I now know that I have to.I’ve moved through the crossroad and I’m on
my way to tell my story.